


And With This Cup

by silverstardust



Series: Secrets of Beforus [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Beforus, Beforus Ancestors, Beforus Culling (Homestuck), Chimeras, Civil War, Confrontations, Disobeying Orders, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Falling In Love, Guilt, Hallucinations, Injury Recovery, Love Affair, M/M, Medical Trauma, Mind Control, Murder, Political Marriage, Prophecy, Prophetic Visions, Psychological Trauma, Rescue Missions, Revolution, Revolutionaries In Love, Rewriting destiny, Royal Balls, Royalty, Running Away, Threshecutioner Karkat, Threshecutioners, Title Ceremony, Wedding Vows from Corpse Bride, Written in Class, backstabbing, history of beforus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverstardust/pseuds/silverstardust
Summary: With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way into the darkness. With the ring, I ask you to be mine.---Deep in the ancient history of Beforus, a rebellion is brewing, and decisions are not yours to make. Two trolls who are fated by law to never be together decide to take matters into their own hands and make their own fate.





	And With This Cup

Your name is Terezi Pyrope and you are the youngest royal Legislacerator on the court, appointed at the age of 10 sweeps. You prosecute cases that directly deal with some of the most important laws of Beforus!

 

Well, sort of.

 

You mostly deal with only culling cases. And more and more recently, with the sight of more and more culling cases on the list for you to oversee, you’re sick to your stomach. Most of them are abuse cases. You’ve seen too many small, young traumatized trolls sitting in the witness stand, blinded or crippled or unable to walk right because of footbinding. It’s just awful.

 

Where are you now? You take a second to reclaim your thoughts. You’re at a royal ball, thrown by the Empress. And she’s introducing you to someone. You suppose it’s because of your newly appointed position as a royal legislacerator.

 

“...know my advisor, Lord Ampora, yes? This is his cullee, Karkat.”

 

You snap back fully to reality and prepare to see a small traumatized child.

 

You see a well groomed troll your age with burning red eyes.

 

You instantaneously decide imperial red is your new favorite color. Permanently. You also thank your past self for choosing a more flattering gown to wear rather than your slightly frumpy uniform. You nod at the appropriate spots as the Empress rattles on about his accomplishments or something as you glance him up and down. He’s dressed in the Threshecutioner ceremony uniform, with a red shirt underneath his white jacket. He’s also got a variety of medals. You can tell some are decoration, but others you know are for actual accomplishments. You can see he sports the Red Rose on his chest- the symbol of the Empress’s Royal Guard.

 

The Empress walks away with two other guests to converse with them. You are left alone with the young prince.

 

How in the  _ fuck  _ do you Alternian right now? His eyes are burning through you as he gives you the exact same treatment as you just did to him, glancing you up and down and deciding his opinion to you. You can’t even speak right now, your mouth is so dry and your tongue feels like it’s cracking. You curse your past self for choosing the teal dress with the low cut. You should’ve gone with the black cocktail dress-

 

“Not what you were expecting for a cullee, am I?”

 

You slowly shake your head. Karkat chuckles softly, and takes two champagne flutes from the tray of a passing server, offering one to you. You accept it and take a small sip.

 

“I’ve read all of your case arguments. I’m a big fan of your work.”

 

You nearly choke and die on your drink. The crown prince, the model cullee, pampered and spoiled with grandeur and whatever his heart desires being served to him on a golden plate, said he’s a big fan of your work. A big fan. Of your work. Your culling cases and statements.

 

You look back up at him in shock. He chuckles again and offers you the handkerchief from his chest pocket to fix your smeared lipstick. He’s got a mischievous look in his eye.

 

“Want to ditch this ball?”

 

Ditch the royal ball. He’s the crown prince. You’re a royal legislacerator. You two could get in so much trouble for that.

 

…

 

You ditch the ball.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve got a problem with authority!” Karkat yells and throws a brick into the front window of a culling center. The glass shatters and the alarms go off. You both stare in silence before bolting away in laughter.

 

You think you’ve both have had way too much to drink, but you’re having way too much fun with him to stop now.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s crying while he tells you. He wants to be a public speaker but he can’t. The Empress won’t let him because of his color and his tragically short lifespan. She thinks it's unfair to him and everyone else to let him have such a thing when he’ll die so tragically young and cause sorrow for everyone who admired his work. He tells you he never wanted to be a knight, a posterboy threshecutioner, just a tool to promote a broken system.

 

He smells like sweat and whiskey. His eyes aren’t clearly focused. He’s so drunk, and so are you.

 

You hug him tightly and whisper to him that you’d rather be a judge than a prosecutor, but the system doesn’t let you have that either.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s burning hot against you, soft caresses with uncoordinated kisses. You know you’re both still drunk. You know you both could get into so much trouble for this. You think you’re in his castle bedroom, but at this point you’re not even sure of that anymore. Quite frankly you don’t think you could even care anymore.

 

Fuck the empire.

 

* * *

 

 

You feel extremely grateful that you are not the only person who ended up staying overnight at the castle. It’s quiet easy for you to blend in with the rest of the young trolls, tired and giggly from the last night’s events. Karkat’s slip of paper is in your tightly gripped hand, still warm from the touch of his body heat. You know his pesterchum handle is on it.

 

You can’t smell him on you, though. You desperately hope this is not a one time thing.

 

* * *

 

 

He asked you on a date! Well, technically. He’s asked you to be his date for another ball the Empress is throwing. But as the crown prince, it’s not often he can even go out. It’s close enough for you.

 

CG: Terezi? You’ve been gone for a couple minutes. Are you alright?

GC: 1’m f1n3.

GC: 1’ll b3 th3r3.

CG: Perfect. I’ll be waiting for you. It’s tomorrow night.

CG: …

CG: Bring spare clothes.

 

[CardinalGeneral has left the chat]

 

 

You can’t wait.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s outside waiting for you, greeting other guests with the Grand Advisor. He helps you out of your carriage, and slips his arm with yours.

 

“I was waiting for you.”

 

You blush lightly and squeeze his hand. The Grand Advisor side eyes both of you, a single ear fin twitching. He’s listening in.

 

You put on a friendly smile. “So have I. I’ve been interested in hearing about that new law you mentioned will be going into effect soon. It would be quite the enlightening discussion.”

 

“I agree. There’s a couple other ones I have yet to tell you about that I also wish to discuss.” He smiles back and turns you, beginning to leave the courtyard and enter the ballroom.

 

“Karkat, the guest which the Empress wished you to meet has arrived.” The Grand Advisor calls out. Karkat sighs audibly next to you, patting your arm gently before letting go and turning back around.

 

The Huntress is walking up the steps of the courtyard. You’re very well aware of who she is- an olive blood, who was raised in the wild by beasts before being found and culled, reintroduced back into society. She’s considered a model cullee, just like Karkat. She’s dressed like a cullee too, in a modest green gown, and her hair done up in a bun. Her culler, a blue blood, steps out of the carriage, but you’re unsure of who he is.

 

“Ah, the Huntress. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Karkat politely shakes her hand with a forced smile.

 

The Huntress smiles shyly, casting her eyes to the ground as she curtsied. “Please, my prince. You may call me Nepeta if you wish.”

 

The Grand Advisor steps next to her and gently sets a hand on Nepeta’s shoulder. “The Empress has taken great interest in her. It would be in your best interest as well to become well acquainted with her.”

 

Karkat grabs your arm suddenly, linking arms with you again. “I’ve already invited a date. You can’t expect me to simply abandon her before we’ve even entered the ball because of your political views-”

 

“This has nothing to do with political views, Karkat, and everything to do with what the Empress wishes. It will be in your best interest to comply.” The Grand Advisor glares at Karkat, and you can faintly hear a trace of a growl in his throat. “And you will watch your tongue with me, boy, before I lock you in your room for the night.”

 

Karkat frowns and squeezes your arm tightly.

 

The Huntress steps forward slightly. “If I may, your majesties- Karkat did not expect my arrival and planned as such. My caretaker who has accompanied me has no date, and can be my date, if you so wish it.”

 

The Grand Advisor frowns, and he and Karkat have a silent momentary standoff. Then he flicks his hand without a word and goes back to greeting guests. Karkat quickly turns and leaves, pulling you with him and leaving the Huntress to wait for her caretaker.

 

“They know,” Karkat growls softly.

 

“What? I know I took all of my things with me, what did we miss?”

 

“I put my sheets in the wash almost as soon as you left, but they still stained. Ampora knows, and he’s probably going to tell the Empress.”

 

* * *

 

 

You are not enjoying this night as much as you should be. At one point, you got whisked away from Karkat to meet with the Empress, who wanted you to meet a friend of hers called The Mirthful. And then, the music started playing, and The Mirthful whisked you away to dance. A glance across the ballroom shows you Karkat is, rather unhappily, dancing with the Huntress, while The Grand Advisor watches you two like a hawk. You get the sense he and the Empress are up to something.

 

* * *

 

 

Someone pulls you from the hallway into a curtained cove. You go to scream and fight back, but there’s a soft shush in your ear, and oh- it’s Karkat. He keeps his hand tightly against your mouth as he seems to listen closely to something else.

 

“Karkat?” You can hear Nepeta’s heels click as she walks along the hallway. “Karkat…?”

 

You both wait a couple moments in silence, and the footsteps quietly pad away as Nepeta continues to look for him. Karkat sighs in relief, letting go of your mouth and sitting on the stone bench inside the curtained cove. You realize that these coves were probably made for little rendezvous during parties.

 

You sit down opposite of him.

 

“I heard her talking about it with Eridan. The new law they want to set up. It makes me sick. It’s so unfair, they’re trolls, they’re people with their own thoughts and opinions and emotions, and they’re being treated like they’re dogs to be bred!”

 

“What? What is it, what’s wrong?” You reach out and gently take his hands. He squeezes them tightly, staring at them and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

 

“They just…. Talked over my head, like I wasn’t even there. Like I was just some sort of animal. About this law they’re going to set up that will have everything to deal with me but they won’t even let me give my own opinion.” Karkat sighs softly and squeezes your hand again. “They’re going to have a new law passed tomorrow morning. It will prevent a cullee from quadranting with anyone they have a 35% hemospectrum deficiency with. Becaused the unmatched lifespans are unfair. Cullers can choose who their cullee can be matched up with. Gods above, I may as well be a dog!”

 

You scowl. “That’s horrible. That’s micromanaging in the marital bedroom.”

 

“Exactly! Each caste is another 12 percent, and you won’t be able to have more than three castes in between two matched trolls. For example- our deficiency level is 60%, almost double the limit. That’s why they’re so upset, why they’ve been planning since they knew. They don’t want us to have any interaction together.”

 

“They calculated it to their advantage. They can choose any cullee to match with you-”

 

“But not with you.”

 

His voice is cracking and pained. He squeezes your hands tighter, you can barely feel them as he stands up and crumples to his knees in front of you, gazing up at you with adoration, with flushed and heartbroken eyes. 

 

“Terezi, I’m flushed for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

There’s hysteric screaming coming from the courtyard. Your assistant stops reading the case details to you, and you both look up.

 

A good sized party rushes past, which you quickly recognize as the Empress’s hunting party. You back up against the wall as they shout for a path to be cleared, towards the infirmary. The Empress and The Grand Advisor bring up the rear, with Karkat between them. Then, you realize Karkat is not walking with them. They’re propping him up between them.

 

Karkat has blood dripping everywhere from his face, his nose and eyes, mouth and ears- his face is just an utter mess of imperial red and black, horrorterror goo.

 

He makes direct eye contact with you briefly as he stumbles his way to the infirmary between them. You think he tries to say something to you, but blood and goo falls from his mouth like a waterfall and splatters against his clothes and the floor. The Empress and his culler rush him past you and into the infirmary. You shove your papers into your assistant’s hands and rush after them to the infirmary.

 

* * *

 

 

“He refuses to say anything about it to me, I’m afraid,” the Huntress bowed her head to the Empress. “I am aware it’s only been a few hours since the… incident, but I believe he won’t be willing to relinquish what happened to me. He has only been silent to my presence.”

 

The Empress wrings her hands together. “That’s fine. He probably does not wish to frighten you anymore than he already has. We should retrieve a therapist, or a psychologist.”

 

You leap at the chance. “I have a doctorates in psychology and proper certification. And I can also write the legal write-up if he needs medication. If I may, your majesties.”

 

The Grand Advisor glares at you. “Absolutely not! I know what you are trying to do, you vile temptress-” You recoil away from his finger as he steps into your personal space and points his finger into your face. “I will not allow you to even step into-”

 

“Ampora, enough.” The Empress’s voice waivers slightly as she speaks up. “He could be suffering severe psychological trauma right now. Would you rather let him suffer alone because of a suspicion, or let him have immediate care?”

 

The Grand Advisor bristles and stalks out of the room. The Empress sighs softly and ushers you into the infirmary, shutting the door behind you.

 

Karkat is in the private room in the back, separated by foldable walls that block prying eyes, but not prying ears. You suppose he’s supposed to be resting, but he’s hunched up over the side of the cot, hurling tub large amounts of black goo into a plastic tub. The color is tinged brown, with what you suspect is his own blood that he’s vomiting up.

 

You sigh softly and sit down on the edge of the bed, to gently rub his back. He recoils away from your touch, looking up in terror. His face is still a bloody, gooey mess.

 

He gives a pained moan, reaching his hands up shakily to your head. “Oh… oh, Terezi, your face.. What have they done to you?!”

 

“Karkat, I’m fine. I’m more worried about you. You’re vomiting horrorterror goo.”

 

“They’ve smashed your face in, oh gods-” He runs his thumb over your cheek before recoiling like he’s touched something that burned him, staring at his hands in horror. “Oh, gods above, they’ve gone and killed you. They’ve killed you.”

 

“Karkat, I’m right here.” You take his hand and place it against your chest, where he can feel your heartbeat. “See? I’m right here. Look at my eyes. I’m not dead.”

 

Karkat tries to yank his hand away from you, taking panicky breathes. “No, no, oh gods above, I hope they strike down who’s done this to you with the worst of revenges- I hope they make them feel pain-”

 

“Karkat, I’m alive. I’m right here. No one has hurt me.”

 

Karkat’s eyes roll back into his head and he crumples against you, unconscious. More of the thick, black goo trickles from his mouth and nose.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes a couple weeks to actually get most of the horrorterror gunk out of his system, to the point where he’s no longer vomiting it, and it just occasionally trickles out of his nose, or out of the corner of his mouth. As it leaves his system, you find he becomes more stable. His hallucinations become less frequent, much shorter. He stops hallucinating you as a ghost come to haunt him, but as yourself. And the nursemaids keep bringing you back to the infirmary, because you’re the only one, other than the Empress and his culler, who he’ll let touch him. Most often, you end up feeding him, as he’s too weak to even feed himself at this time, but sometimes, you try to ask questions.

 

He doesn’t like it when you ask questions, he doesn’t have to talk for you to know that. While he remains as silent as ever since he had passed out, he grows visibly agitated when you try to ask him questions. You can only theorize what happened to him. You wish he’d tell you.

 

You think he was attacked by a horrorterror, judging from the goo he had been throwing up the past couple weeks. But you’re not certain, nor happy with that conclusion. It happened during the day, after all, and you know horrorterrors only come out during night.

 

You decide to just focus on feeding him for now. You blow one last time on the bowl of soup before helping him drink it.

 

“I saw the Chimera.”

 

You pause in shock, it’s the first time he’s talked in a couple weeks, and his voice is scratchy from misuse.

 

“You saw… what?”

 

“The Chimera. I saw him. I seperated from the group because I thought I heard someone calling for help, but it was him- he was calling for me.” He wipes his mouth with his wrist, shuddering. “And he told me- he told me that Beforus was destined to die, and he wanted to give me a gift so I could try and prevent it. He gave me foresight. I can see in advance- I can- I can prophesize. And while he was talking, I started to bleed, from my ears and my nose and my mouth and eyes and-” He lurches, covering his mouth and shuddering. You gently rub his back until he composes himself again.

 

“And then- and then he gave me a mission. He said he gave me my gift so I could help Beforus survive, because if I don’t do it, if I don’t succeed, it’ll die, trolls as a species will be wiped out.”

 

You gently sit him back against his pillows. “What did he tell you to do?”

 

Karkat shudders, gently clutching your wrist when you try to pull away.

 

“He wants me to end culling.”

 

* * *

 

 

You did not tell the Empress about the true nature of the Chimera’s mission. You simply tell her that Karkat, indeed, see a Chimera, was given an ability and a mission, but refuses to further elaborate on it. Karkat doesn’t tell her either.

 

But he takes the Chimera business very seriously.

 

He’s poured through every single document about culling he’s been able to find- legal documents, the actual Culling Acts, court cases, anything he could get access to. He wrote down case details, analyzed them multiple times over. He made charts and percentages, with real numbers from those cases he read, and slowly began to uncover startling patterns and realizations. It became an obsession of his, and the farther and farther he fell into the rabbit hole, you began to follow him.

 

“Karkat?”

 

He pauses his vigorous scouring of his latest material and looks up at you. “Yes?”

 

“You’ve told me Beforus would fall to a terrible fate.” You set down the notepad, pushing up your glasses and rubbing your eyes. “But you never told me what. What’s going to happen if we can’t stop culling?”

 

“We will stop culling.”

 

“But what if we  _ don’t _ , Karkat?”

 

Karkat stays quietly for a couple moments. His gaze flitters to the ground, and he silently begins to draw patterns on the table the two of you were sitting at. “I’ll have a descendent but… Culling is going to make our people soft. It has make our people soft. We are Beforian trolls, descendants of warring, vicious, animalistic trolls. But we have changed so many rules, so many laws… it’s made us all so very soft. The young trolls in the future… there won’t be a Beforian Military. No threshecutioners, no bounty hunters, no grand generals. Weapons will be regulated with an iron fist. Culling will become the norm. And my descendant will be directly involved with culling.”

 

Karkat shuddered and wrapped his arms around his legs tightly. “There will be two warning signs that the end is coming. There will be a fuschia heiress- the same exact hue as our current empress, but she’ll be violent. Manipulative, warrior-like. A true Beforian troll as our ancestors would have been. She won’t want the throne, so she’ll flee to one of our moons. She’ll find a game, a game that will end the world, and she’ll want to play it.”

 

“So how do we stop them from playing that game?”

 

“She’ll ask her friends if they want to play it. There will be twelve of them, one for each caste color, and one of my own color. If he is culled, in the way that I have seen he will be, he’ll want to play, because he knows it’ll kill everyone in his city, and kill his culler. But if he isn’t culled, or, at the very least, not culled the way I’ve been shown, he won’t want to play. He won’t want to hurt anybody. And there are some of their friends who will side with him. But if we can’t end culling, he’ll be culled, and the end of Beforus will come.”

 

You take his hand and squeeze it tightly. “Don’t worry. We can stop this, Karkat. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s his Titling Day and you’re so proud of him. You couldn’t be prouder.

 

As his legal advisor, you stay with him the entire day. You draft up his tilting papers, and make sure everything runs smoothly. You help him design the silver chair and the golden laurel wreath he wants to use. And everything goes smoothly- the ceremony is completed, and he signs his title for the first time in imperial red on your papers. Now, you’ve been ushered to the celebration party.

 

You stay with him, as expected of you as his legal advisor. His titling day assistant- who he was not allowed to choose- is the Huntress, who stays with him as well, for the most part. She’s got the attention span of a cat, and sometimes she darts away only to return a couple minutes later.

 

Karkat steps back to you after conversing with a guest and offers you a glass of wine. “Empress needed her, so kitty bitch disappeared again. She’s so annoying. It’s always ‘Karkitty this’ or ‘Karkitty that’.”

 

You know Karkat has no patience for her, and you agree that you find her annoying sometimes, although not all the time. “While I agree her puns can be over the top sometimes, she’s not all that bad. She’s actually kinda sweet.”

 

A glass pinging grabs everyone’s attention. The Empress is standing on the ballroom balcony, delicately hitting the rim of her wine glass with a spoon. She gives everyone a gracious smile once she has total attention on her.

 

“Thank you. Today is a joyous day, with our crown prince having finally received his title-” Applause breaks out, so she pauses until it dies down again, and then continues. “And I would like to use this celebration to deliver even more joyous news. After months of considering it over and receiving the opinions of others, and have come to a conclusion met with positive results. As is my duty as Empress to ensure the happiness of my assisting cabinet, I would like to announce the engagement of The Chimeric and The Huntress.”

 

You can dully hear a roar of applause and a shattering wine glass hitting the floor.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been six months and twelve days since Karkat’s arranged matespriteship to the Huntress was announced. It’s been six months and four days since the new law, dictating that cullers had full ability to pick and choose their cullee’s quadrants, had been passed. It’s been six months and two days since you last saw or heard of Karkat appearing at a public event, and it’s been five months and twenty-eight days since he last messaged you.

 

Six months and twelve days ago, when his arranged matespriteship was announced, he was ushered away and out of the ball minutes, seconds even, after it was announced. The next day, the news were full of reports of it, everyone swooning and cooing over the match. The next week, the news took a turn more for the south- loud, audible arguments and angry screaming, suspected to also involve violence, have been breaking out on the castle grounds. Karkat had since disappeared from the public eye.

 

The last message he sent you, five months and twenty-eight days ago had been sent to you in a panic. He said he was under close moniterization, and forbidden to leave castle grounds. Only a couple minutes had passed since he sent you that message and when you went to reply, but his account had already been disabled. You’ve been keeping close tabs on his account since, checking daily to see if it pops back up and you can message him.

 

To make matters worse, five months ago, the Empress announced your arranged matespriteship as well, to her friend the Mirthful, who, if you remember correctly, had been introduced to you a while back. It made you think that all of this had been a plan for quite some time and that couldn’t make you any more enraged than you already are.

 

You want to be able to talk to Karkat one last time, but you don’t think you’ll be able to. Your ceremony is tomorrow morning.

 

A rapping from your front door attracts your attention away from your thoughts. You walk to the door and open it a crack.

 

It’s Marquoise Serket, who you know for a fact is the Black Widow assassin. You’ve been trying to incarcerate her for years. She’s gotten many of her victims wrapped into her grasp for favor debts.

 

“I don’t need your help,” you snap at her angrily, and try to slam your door shut. She stops it with her boot and an over dramatic eye roll.

 

“I’m here to fulfill a debt I owe. I’d rather not help you after all you’ve tried to do to me, but, alas, the debt is to help you. So get packed. We’re leaving and we might not come back.”

 

“Where are you taking me.”

 

Serket glanced around, and suddenly you remember the chances of being monitored is very high.

 

“We’re having the traditional bachelorette handmaiden party, of course. It’s being held at the lake with the red roses.”

 

Of course she doesn’t give you a straight answer. You scowl at her and prepare a biting retort when she opens her jacket slightly and flashes you a pin- a pin of a red rose. It looks identical to the Red Rose medal of the Empress’s Royal Guard, so there’s no way she got her hands on it unless she stole it, or someone gave it to her as a signal-

 

Karkat had a Red Rose medal. 

 

You quickly pack your bags and leave with her.

 

Fuck the empire.

 

* * *

 

 

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.”

 

Your hand shakes as you lift the small bottle and pour a splash of wine into both goblets. “Your cup will never be empty, for I shall be your wine.”

 

_ His  _ hands are as calm as ever, of course, as he lifts the match and lights the two candles. “With this candle, I will light your way into the darkness.”

 

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” You carefully slide the gold band with your symbol etched into it onto his finger, and you can feel him slide another one onto yours. You turn back to the table, and you both pick up the goblets carefully. The red string tying the goblets together gleams in the candle light as you both lower your heads to drink. Normally, you know red ribbon would be used, but the two of you are pressed for time.

 

You think Karkat looks so much better dressed in your shade of teal than that olive color. His eyes settle on you, and even in the dim light of a candlelit inn’s backroom, his eyes glint an unnatural, burning iron red, and the way he looks at you with such need makes your bloodpumper hurt with overwhelming pity.

 

His eyes flick back down to his goblet to drink.

 

You quickly swallow the wine, and you set the goblet back down upon the table, to the right of your candle. Karkat sets his down to the left of his candle. You can feel the eyes of your cerimonial witness- the Matriarch, of course, who else- as you both turn to her.

 

She steps forward to fill out the ceremonial paperwork. You and Karkat are then ushered out. The ceremony is almost complete.

 

You follow Karkat down the hall of the inn, and step into the room behind him. It’s small, but cozy. One, large bed is in the center, and the fireplace has a small, crackling flame, giving off gentle heat. There’s a fresh, unopened bottle of wine on a small table, with two glasses and a note- it’s courtesy of the innkeeper, in celebration of your ceremony and repayment for Karkat having helped his moirail.

 

Karkat gathers his night clothes and steps into the bathroom to change, leaving you the room to change for yourself. You expected this- he’s been raised royal, raised prim and proper and modest. With how formally everyone, and himself, is always dressed around him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never even seen a troll’s knees before, besides his own.

 

There are candles scattered about the room, so you take the time to light them all. The room gains a romantic glow, with the light from all the candles and the fire place. You steal one of Karkat’s spare shirts to use as your own, and fold your dress and set it aside.

 

You hear the door open and Karkat walk out. In the corner of your eye, you see him neatly fold his threshecutioner uniform and set it aside with your dress. He sits down on the bed next to you, chastely kissed your cheek, then lies down with his back to you.

 

“It’s been a long day, so get some rest. There’s a sopor sheet underneath the protector, so you won’t have to worry about night terrors.”

 

You know, regardless of sopor or not, Karkat will never have a good night’s sleep without night terrors ever again. Not with his gift from the Chimera.

 

You lie down next to him and cuddle against him. He pressed another kiss to your forehead.

 

“Sleep.”

 

“Karkat, the ceremony isn’t technically over yet. We have to officiate it. You know that…”

 

He rolls over and gives you a sleepy, half-hearted glare. “And you know that’s just a thing made up by nobles. To further secure arranged matespriteships and prevent false ones.”

 

“So wouldn’t it be the biggest ‘fuck the empire’ to throw into the Empress’s face? You said you wanted to challenge her after today, to walk up to her and demand she remove the Culling Acts, or you’d start a war. What if we both did that, smelling like each other?”

 

Karkat’s eyes soften, and he gives an impish grin. “Oh, that would make her pissed, we directly defied her orders.” He laughs softly, lifting your head slightly and quickly, gently pressing his lips to yours.

 

“Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Karkat, Terezi… I’m surprised to see you both here.” Feferi looks both of you over with a calculated, calm look. But you know better, you can see the fury in her eyes, even from this far away. “What an… interesting scent.”

 

Gatorade and strawberries, or at least that’s what it smells like to you. You squeeze Karkat’s hand a little tighter.

 

“Yeah, it’s been a while since you’ve let me out of my room, or even that wing of the castle, hasn’t it?” Karkat squeezes back slightly. “I’ve got an announcement to make, if you don’t mind.”

 

Feferi scowls for a second and waves the frightened messenger away. “Fine. Go ahead.”

 

“You will abolish the Culling Acts.”

 

She can’t hide the rage in her voice from you any longer but you’ll give her credit for trying to still seem matronly. “Karkat, dear, what are you talking about? The Culling Acts have aided many and made sure they would be cared for. They are a benefit to-”

 

“They are a menace. There are hundreds of court cases filed that deal with abuse between a culler and a cullee!”

 

You nod in agreement to Karkat’s argument. “I’ve worked on plenty of them, actually, your highness. Most of the time, it’s young wrigglers too. And we have statistics to show that one in ten cullings, there’s some form of abuse, like foot binding, which is completely-”

 

“NOT part of the Culling Acts,” Feferi interrupted bitingly. “And should not be prosecuted as such.”

 

“Remove the Culling Acts, Feferi. I won’t ask again.”

 

“I will do no such thing.”

 

Karkat squeezed your hand tightly. “Then, you leave me no choice. As customary of our traditions, I have placed my request twice, and you have denied it twice.” Feferi’s face soured as Karkat continued. “I will lead a revolution, and I will end culling myself.”

 

“Nonsense. You should come home, Karkrab. Eridan misses you so, he can barely eat, and Nepeta has been so distraught since you’ve abandoned her.”

 

“I want nothing to do with Nepeta!” Karkat snarled. “My matesprit is Terezi. I refuse to let you take her away from me!”

 

“You are disobeying orders, Karkat. Come home.”

 

Karkat’s mouth twitched. You can tell if he’s trying not to frown or laugh. 

 

“I’m leaving, your highness. You are no longer in charge of me.”

 

* * *

 

 

There’s not enough horses now that Archtech is here. You don’t even know how it was that he was able to find where you were, but he did. You were already sharing a horse before with Karkat, so Matriarch could have one of her own.

 

“Get on.”

 

You look at Karkat in confusion. “Excuse me? This is your horse.”

 

“And I said get on.” Karkat gently pushes you forward. “Kanaya, do you mind sharing with her? You’re both light, so he can handle you both. Then Sollux will take your horse, and everything is settled.”

 

“Hey wait, what about you?!” You demand. “I understand your horse can take two people, but can’t the other one too? Archtech can share!”

 

He picks you up swiftly and deposits you on the horse. He then turns and helps Matriarch on behind you. “Don’t worry, I’ll walk. It won’t be the first time. I’ll be okay.” Karkat pats your leg, smiling. Then he takes the reins from you and starts leading the hoofbeast off. You grab onto the mane and whine at him.

 

“What if you get tired?!”

 

“I won’t, I’m a trained soldier. I can handle walking.”

 

“But what if you do?”

 

“Then I’ll trade with Sollux, rest, then continue walking.”

 

“You’d better take a long rest then!”

 

“I’ll rest however long I need to but I doubt I will.”

 

“Fine!” You cross your arms and almost immediately fall off the horse, if it were not to Matriarch’s hands wrapped around you. Karkat laughs, and tugs the halter of the horse, leading you two down the path with Sollux following.

 

\------------------------

 

Karkat flops onto the bed (and you), laughing when you whine at the dislodgement from your comfortable spot. But you put no real effort into trying to push him off, and after a moment he rolls off of you on his own, cuddling you from behind.

 

It’s been a sweep since the two of you, with the Matriarch, and later the Archtech, declared a war on the Empress. It’s been successful so far, and you’re proud of Karkat, being able to run this whole entire revolution so far. But you can tell it takes a toll on him, especially with his routine night terrors, despite abundance of sopor. He’s constantly tired.

 

So you cherish moments like this. It’s not often that they occur you anymore.

 

“Hey, you know what would be a huge ‘fuck you’ to the empire?” He hums in your ear, and you can feel the soft vibrations in his chest from his soft purr.

 

“Someone’s in a good mood today.” You turn and cuddle him, and kiss his cheek. “What would that be, hmm?”

 

His playful grin softens, and he gently rubs your shoulder. “Cullees aren’t supposed to reproduce- it’s cruel to create more invalid trolls intentionally. So, we should have one. Just to give a big ol fuck you.”

 

You laugh and prop yourself up on your side. “Oh yeah? Better hope it’s imperial red like you. An even bigger fuck you,”

 

“That sounds fucking wonderful-”

 

A loud commotion startles the both of you, and Karkat quickly rushes out. You jump up and follow him.

 

There’s a couple of soldiers carrying in a young troll, setting him down on some bedding. He’s clearly a bronze blood, with large doe eyes, and flopped, moo-beast like ears. He’s got large long horns like a bull, and he doesn’t look any older than six.

 

You quickly recognize him as Tavros, Serket’s cullee. You’ve tried convicting Serket before for intentionally crippling him to cull him. You sit down with him and rub his shoulders as the other soldiers begin addressing Karkat.

 

From what you can glean from the conversation, it was a rescue mission. Tavros wanted to join the revolutionary army, and there was talk of a possible operation that would give him robotic legs to use. The soldiers leave, and Karkat crouches to Tavros’s level.

 

“Hey, you’re good with horses, yeah?” Karkat asked gently. Tavros nodded slightly and Karkat grinned. 

 

“Awesome. We got a spare horse recently. Wanna be our messenger?”

 

* * *

 

 

He’s drenched in purple blood.

 

You quickly jump to his aid, and he all but collapses against you. He’s shaking like a leaf but you’re pretty sure he’s also dry heaving.

 

Without a word, you help him strip out of his uniform and wash the blood off himself. Then you make sure he gets into more comfortable clothes, and lying down in a bed with a trashcan nearby.

 

And  _ then  _ he hurls.

 

You gently hold his bangs back as he vomits, gently rubbing his shoulder. When he’s finished, you gently wipe his face with a damp cloth and offer him a glass of water.

 

“Do you need to talk about it, darling?”

 

Karkat shudders and slumps against you, burying his face into your shoulder. “They killed her. Kanaya- the Matriarch, they killed her, and, and I got so mad, and then he was dead. His head was smashed to a pulp, and his clubs were in my hands- I killed him so brutally, against my own philosophies, my own teachings.”

 

You sigh softly and stroke his hair. You also theorized he had the possibility for a highblood’s rage.

 

“This is not your fault, Karkat. You were angry beyond your control, and rightfully so.”

 

“I killed him!”

 

“Because he killed the Matriarch. I would have done the same.” You lift his head gently and wipe his eyes dry. “Hey, listen to me. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay? You’re alright. We’ll be alright. It won’t even happen again, okay?”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s quiet. It’s way too quiet. You know everyone but Tavros and you are out on a mission, but it’s too quiet. You can’t hear the droning of his legs.

 

“Tavros? Is everything alright?”

 

He doesn’t answer. You quietly move to your bedroom door. “Tavros?”

 

There’s still no answer. You grab your sword and slam the door open.

 

Marquoise Serket is there, with her own sword. She’s standing over the corpse of Tavros, and- ugh, you fight the urge to hurl.

 

“What are you DOING?!” you demand. “I thought you were on our side! You helped me!”

 

“Because I was repaying a debt,” Serket interrupts, “I have no side in this war you two fickle idiots are playing. And I’ve been offered a large sum of money to dispose of you.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Sorry, but a deal’s a deal, my lady.”

 

You scream in anger and lunge at her, and then- you are her. You’re an extension of her body as she controls yours, into raising your sword against yourself.

 

You stab your own heart.

 

You can faintly hear screaming.


End file.
